


Refuse to Regret

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: Dark ABO [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Horror, Claiming Bites, Cunnilingus, Dark, Double Penetration in One Hole, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Sitting, Hand Feeding, Intersex Omegas, Knotting, M/M, Magic, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: A seemingly chance encounter with bikers, the Kings of Lucis, changes Prompto's life forever. At first he thinks it can't get any worse than being claimed as the mate of the gang's enforcer, Gladio, but then he learns there's more to the life he's been dragged into and the shadowy underworld he'll be moving in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started and written using Dark ABO starters. Dark fic, Gladio is an asshole, Omen Noctis is real, Ignis is...well. Anyway. Dark. 
> 
> Prompt 1: "Get your hands off me! You can’t do whatever you want just because you’re an alpha!”

Prompto was no stranger to assholes at his job. The Palm, the club he worked at, wasn’t in the best area (not that anything in Hammerhead was really worth shit) and was a place bikers and truckers liked to frequent as they moved through the desert. It advertised on the highway as the hottest omega dancers for a hundred miles, handily leaving out that they were the only purely omega strip club for a hundred miles, and that was a siren’s call to all sorts of shady, handsy, horny, and slobbery asshole alphas.

Prompto didn’t dance. Cindy has suggested he should a few times and he knew she meant well. She and Cid did their best to protect the dancers and would never suggest anything she thought would get Prompto in trouble but, the simple truth of the matter was that it did invite trouble. Some patrons didn’t know how to accept ‘look but don’t touch’ well and Cid and Cindy couldn’t be expected to keep the jerks away after the bar closed.

Some of the dancers made a business out of the inevitable attention, taking knots for money, but all too often Prompto had spotted one slinking in to work with bruises around their throats and dotting their thighs or, even worse, turning up after a few days away hollow eyed, with teeth shaped scars in their throat, to quit.

Or, worst of all, not quitting. Claimed and used up by some alpha who skipped town the next morning. Terrifying enough in theory but seeing it happen…

Prompto didn’t dance. Serving drinks in his tiny black shorts and vest got him enough lecherous looks and slaps to the ass without seeing what came from baring it all. This was the alphas were usually too busy drooling over the omega cock and pussy on display to be bothered with him beyond eye rolling and calling him frigid or stuck up.

Usually.

Tonight was different.

A biker group he’d never seen before had come in, about half a dozen alphas in dark leather jackets and denim, smelling like dust, sweat, and lust. They all had dark, lean, and hungry looks that spoke of trouble and barely restrained violence. They’d headed right for the so called VIP booths, if they could be called that, with one lingering behind to exchange grins and a quick hug with Cindy. Cid had pulled him off his usual section to tend to them, telling him to be nice because they were friends, and that should have been the first sign that things were going to go badly.

For than most part they were fine. Well behaved aside from a few comments and a fondness for shoving money much further down his shorts than was strictly necessary, but they were big tippers so he was prepared to grin and bare it.

He’d gotten a little tripped up when he’d realized there was an omega among them, tall and lithe with piercing green eyes, wedged between two haired alphas and sporting two deep mating scars on his neck. By the second round the omega had slithered into the lap of the smaller, blue eyed alpha was moving in a way that was a few layers away from riding a cock in public. The other alpha, older, with long hair shaved down on the sides, looked content to watch, smirking around his beer bottle.

The rest of their party didn’t seem bothered. The lone woman and a heavy set man eventually abandoned the booth to get closer to the stage. Another, older looming with close cropped hair, headed for the bar,and that left a single alpha still there, unoccupied. He was the biggest of the lot, tall, broad, and muscular, with dark brown hair drawn up into a messy bun. Prompto was aware of him staring all night. And when he slipped him the money for drinks and tips he not just tucked in the bills deeper than needed but lingered long after, stroking at his skin and skimming his fingertips through the tight curls just above his slit and grinning as Prompto made himself stand and bare it with gritted teeth.

Still it was nothing he couldn’t work through, is what he told himself while fishing another twenty out of the waistband of his thong to drop in with the rest of his tips. Rent was due soon and as he was right now he’d be behind. His landlord had been sniffing around for months, generously offering to take alternate payment and Prompto was prepared to do almost anything to avoid that.

Almost.

When the big alpha decided to grab him and drag him down into the booth, arms like steel beams wrapping around his waist he yelped and began to thrash on a panic, mind going blank for one terrible moment except form one thought ‘No!’. A huge hand squirmed under his shirt and pushed up towards his chest and warm lips brushed his ear.

“Why don’t you call it a night and hang out with me. I’ll put more money in your pocket then you make in a month, promise.”

Prompto flushed angrily and had to fight to keep his voice steady even as he pushed at the arm pinning him to the alpha’s chest. “No thank you, I’m just a server. I can send someone who does…after hours work over, if you-“

“But I want you.” The alpha drawled, squeezing him tight enough to be just in the edge of pain. A shift in his weight and he could feel the others hard on, stiff and impossibly through his jeans, pushing against the back of his thigh. Prompto gasped then pushed at the alpha again, harder. “Aww, don’t be like that baby. I know I’m not the worst you’ve had, working in a place like this, and I promise not to be too rough.”

Prompto shook his head and strained to put distance between them. “I don’t do that. Please, just let go. Don’t-”

Another squeeze left him wheezing for air and pressed even tighter to the alpha. Thick fingers rubbed a circle around one of his nipples then pinched at it, dragging a yelp from him as he tried to shrink away. Another pinch and a tug and Prompto was thrashing and pushing as hard as he could but it was like smacking a wall. The alpha laughed, deep and mocking.

“I like a little fight. Bet you’ll squirm real nice on my knot.”

“I said no!” His voice rose and cracked. “Get your hands off me! You can’t do whatever you want just because you’re an alpha!”

He laughed again. “I can. I can do anything I want and tonight that’s you.”

“Gladio,” the blue eyed alpha on the other side of the booth called. “Don’t mess with Cid’s workers.”

Prompto twisted around, trying to look towards the bar for help. The other servers wouldn’t do anything but Cindy-

He saw the beta woman behind the bar, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed in anger; her cheeks were an angry red he could see even in the darkness of the club. The other alpha, the older one, was holding her by the arm and leaning in close, lips moving as he said something. She paled, lips parting and eyes snapping away from Prompto to stare at the alpha. Prompto watched, dread settling in his stomach, as she nodded slowly then, with one last look towards Prompto, returned to filling drinks.

The alpha holding him scoffed. “What’s Cid gonna do, get Clarus and Regis on his ass over one bitch omega?”

She wasn’t going to help. He went still, shock stealing the fight from his body. Who were these guys that not even Cindy would intervene?

“If you’re that hard up you can borrow Ignis for the night.” said the third alpha, with the strange near mohawk, offered. He made a gesture with his hand and the green eyed omega pushed away from the alpha he was with, and started to stand up.

The alpha holding him (Gladio) shook his head. “Not tonight Nyx.”

The hand under his shirt slipped free and the grip around his waist loosened for a second; Prompto thought, for a heartbeat, that he was going to be let go but when his chin was grabbed and his head wrenched to the side. He shouted, knowledge of what was coming releasing the spell of inaction that had settled on him too late. Teeth dug into his skin, deep and and ruthless. He arched up, scream dying in his throat then went limp. All the tension and strength in his body fled as a wave of heat swept over him and drug him down. The bite did its job and made him little more than a ragdoll almost instantly.

“Jesus.” Someone said, close but distant at the same time. “You didn’t have to-“

“Hey, do I say anything when you and Noct decide to shove your knots in Iggy for all the world to watch?” Prompto was picked up, the world tilting and blurring, then dropped down onto his back. “Or when you decide to loan him out?”

“…that’s different.”

Gladio snorted. “If you say so Princess. Either shut up and watch or get lost.”

The fake leather of the booth creaked under him as he was moved around, hips drug up so his shorts and underwear could be peeled away then flipped over onto his stomach. He growled in protest but it came out like a whimper.

A hand clamped down on his neck, pressing against the bite; he felt blood smear over his skin and flickers of what should have pain but instead became licks of something electric and hot, going straight to his cock. He was wet already and half hard. He closed his eyes, shame making them burn.

A thick finger prodded at him, pushing past the damp folds of his cunt with no preamble. He choked on the drool pooling in his mouth, legs twitching involuntarily as the alpha began to fuck him roughly with his finger.

“Tight little thing, aren’t you? Have you ever had an alpha before? Be a shame if you were only sharing such a nice cunt with betas; they wont know how to treat you right.”

Even if Prompto could have found the words to speak he wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of an answer. Especially when he was right.

“Maybe that’s the problem, no one’s been treating you right? Do you just need to be taught how to act?” His finger crooked and rubbed and-

“Ah!” Prompto yelped, a jolt of pleasure making his vision white around the edges.

“First lesson, real alphas always get what they want. Good omegas known to shut up and take it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gladio fucked the blond omega, small and freckled and reeking of horror and terror, right there in the booth. He hiked his hips up, lined up, and shoved into him hard, bit down on his neck again when he shouted, and proceeded to practically fuck him through the bench. Gladio was so big in comparison that once he was really crowded over the blond the omega all but vanished from sight; if not for the whimpering mewls and filthy wet noises from the other side of the booth one might forget he was there. Or not.

Noctis felt a little sick and a little bit like a hypocrite. He really wasn’t in any position to judge. He’d seen Gladio get rough before, had watched and cheered because they were alphas and powerful and people feared them so they took what they wanted when they wanted. He’d never minded, never tried to talk him out of it and he hadn’t suddenly become noble or anything, not at all. If Gladio had just fucked the omega he wouldn’t give a shit, probably.

No, the problem was it reminded him of how things had gone with Ignis, gave him perspective. He fucking hated perspective.

Noctis pressed a hand to the small of Ignis’ back, able to drag fingers over the ink he knew was there without seeing it, confident he was following the skull and knotwork pattern, the symbol of the Kings of Lucii, perfectly. He had, after all, been the one to draw it, had sat and watched Nyx press the into their omega’s skin and ‘rewarded’ Ignis with a good, long fuck from behind when it was done, never once taking his eyes off the ink.

It marked Ignis as his, the omega of the heir of the Kings of Lucii. And Nyx’s but, then, Nyx belonged to Noctis as well. Nyx and he had fallen together, all fire and passion and stupidity, when Noctis had stepped up to take over part of the gang. Nyx hadn’t liked being passed over for the spoiled ‘prince’, Noctis hadn’t liked being challenged by his father’s pseudo son and they’d clashed and clashed and Noct shot Nyx at once point, and eventually they’d fucked it out like only two alphas could. Teeth and claws, primal rage and a demand for submission on both ends, pushing and tearing and destroying until someone won.

That someone had been Noct. And so Nyx was *his*, bent over for him, sucked his cock on command, and when Noctis wanted it he laid back and let himself be ridden, used, until Noct was done with him. There could only be one of them on control, that was just how alphas worked. It was dirty and chafed and they still snapped and hissed a lot.

But not as much as they had before Ignis. They’d had others before, shared them briefly them dumped them wherever they’d found them, women, men, betas and omegas. They’d never thought much of it, beyond having fun and enjoying a little competition to see who could bring home the nicest prize, make them scream the loudest, get them to do the weirdest shit just to please them.

But Ignis. Ignis had come walking into Noct’s life, bright eyed, proper, going places with a college degree and a place in a master’s program. Beautiful, funny in a cutting way that only someone oblivious to who Noctis was could be, a little rude, a little forceful. They’d met in a cafe Ignis worked at and the omega had rolled his eyes and blown him off. Noctis came back, again and again until they talked and exchanged numbers then talked again and again and-

Noctis did a few things very well. He slept well, fought well, killed well, and fucked like a champ. He also obsessed like no one else he knew and Ignis had taken him by storm. He’d been all he thought about, all he wanted, all he talked about. He kept bringing them back to Altissia where normally they flited all around, had them settle and work jobs in the city for weeks, months, at a time. They talked, dated, fucked, and also didn’t fuck, in favor of just sharing a bed, sharing space, just being.

It was good. He loved it, loved Ignis.

So naturally he’d broken him like he broke everything he’d put his hands on. No one wanted broken things and that meant he had a better chance of keeping what was his.

Nyx had taken the Ignis thing well, or so Noctis had thought. He knew now that Nyx had hated it, hated Ignis, wanted the whole thing done and over with and that…that was why he’d planted the idea of claiming Ignis into his head. Half because he was sure it would scare him off and half because he figured Noct would get bored once he really had the omega. Claim him and leave him because Noctis had never wanted to be tied to anything but his bike and Nyx all 25 years of his life. Until Ignis.

He’d wanted to do it with a clean slate so he’d put Ignis on his bike and rode out to where they were crashing, introduced his proper cautious omega to his grizzled reckless alpha, somehow thinking it would go well.

It hadn’t. Ignis had raged, hurt and betrayed and confused, and Nyx had just stood in the background, smirking in delight and Noctis…Noctis had never been good with losing things. Maybe because it happened so often.

Slamming Ignis Into the wall was something he regretted. Biting him like that, while he was screaming and swearing and damn near kicking his ass (Ignis had a vicious punch under that stuffy demeanor), well he regretted that too. Dragging him over to a bewildered looking Nyx and all but throwing him to the other alpha and demanding he bite too…

Actually that he had been one of his better ideas, in a more abstract sense. He liked what they had now, liked that they were both bonded to Ignis and, in a way, to each other. He’d liked watching Nyx’s teeth sink into Ignis’ skin and blood stain his teeth and lips.

When it was over and Ignis was on the floor, eyes blown wide and heart wrenching, dry sobs making his body shake Noctis had just shoved him down flat, growled in his face, too keyed up to stop. There was, he’d always known, the potential for cruelty in him. He walked a razors edge between easy going and accepting leader and someone terrible and powerful and heartless.

That night he’d been heartless.

“Shut your mouth and spread your legs.” He spat at the omega he loved so much it hurt, didn’t let up until Ignis did just that. Then he sat back and watched while Nyx fucked him, made him cry and squirm and come apart.

Between the two of them they had Ignis all night, separately, together, filling him every way, leaving their seed dripping from his body and their teeth marks deep in their skin.

The next day they’d packed up and left the city, Ignis on the back of Nyx’s bike. He was theirs, couldn’t be apart from them without slowly withering away, as omegas did when a bond stretched and snapped, so there hadn’t been much choice.

The next few nights had been much the same, solidifying the bond, figuring out their places, realizing he felt oddly at peace when he walked into the motel and found Ignis bouncing up and down on Nyx’s dick. Hed plopped down and jerked off while he watched, content even when Ignis laid sad, shattered eyes on him.

Noctis didn’t know if Ignis had broken that first night or on the road or the first time he’d let Cor and Gladio borrow him for a night (they were a pack as much as a gang and it was his job to take care of his packs needs.) Or the first time he’d bartered his omega, fragile and uneasy in his new life, floundering in all the darkness around him, for a favor from a drug dealer they were working with.

He still saw Ignis’ eyes, wet and brimming with betrayal even as he’d dropped to his knees and parted his lips.

Ignis was…different now. Quieter, meaner, held himself like he was wounded and moved to invoke sex, his only real weapon. His clothes changed, his hair changed, he could pout and flutter his eye lashes and get whatever he wanted and knew it, and did it, and abused it. He helped them with numbers and plans and paper trails, played the honeypot without being told, and had once shoved an ice pick into some jackasses ear for trying to weasel out of a deal. He fit them well, made all his shattered bits slide into spots where he and Nyx lacked.

He didn’t really have a choice.

It wasn’t who he was supposed to be. Everyone knew it but Ignis kept on, doing the best he could, accepted it. Maybe loved it, loved them.

Ignis settled back into his lap, squeezed his thighs tight around him and licked his ear. It was enough to drag Noctis away from Gladio and the omega he’d either doomed to die or condemned to joining them, and smiled, slow and wicked and sad, then went for his belt.

Noctis had regrets, sometimes, especially about Ignis, his bright perfect love who’d been good and honest and going places. Who how had no problem shedding skin tight pants to sink down his cock in public, didn’t do anything but laugh and sigh fondly when Nyx crowded in to make a place for himself.  Nyx settled over his thighs, held their omega still as he pushed in with short thrusts, cock rubbing against Noct’s, adding to the heat and clenching tightness of Ignis’ cunt as he sank in, a bit deeper each time. Noctis groaned, head tilting back to thump against the back of the booth, and tightened his grip on Ignis’s hips. He watched through slitted eyes as his omega, flushed bright red and panting, turned his head to kiss Nyx, his one time rival for Noctis’ time and affection, with tongue and teeth. 

People were watching and once upon a time Ignis would not have been able to abide this, would had stank of hurt and shame, but now he gave as good as he got, smiled gamely when the kiss ended and began to move again, bouncing in counterpoint to Nyx’s slow, rolling thrusts. 

He’d taken things from Ignis (from both of his mates, really, but at least Nyx had been one of them, had been part of their world from the get go) that couldn’t be given back, twisted him all up, made him something else. But he loved him, he loved Ignis so much that he’d rather have him broken then not have him at all, and he hoped that counted for something when it came to forgiveness. 

He hoped Gladio would be able to say the same one day, assuming he meant to keep the omega he’d so cruelly claimed. If not...well, then the omega would die and it wouldn’t make much difference one way or another. 

“Relax.” Ignis murmured against his ear. His hips rocked and the silken, dripping heat around Noctis’ cock flexed and rippled around him. Ignis nipped at him, teeth needle sharp and breath hot, rose and fell over them again, swiveled his hips as he clenched down on them, holding them snugly in his body. Nyx’s cock throbbed against his own and Noctis could feel every vein, every dip, as it rubbed against him, slick and hot and then Nyx was there, leaning over Ignis to catch him in a kiss that was more shared breath and a sloppy press of lips than anything else. 

A pained whimper to the side drew his focus. It was hard to tell what was happening on the other side of the booth with the darkness of the club and angle of things but Gladio’s surprisingly soft whispers of “it’s fine, let it in, that’s good, so good, take my knot, just like that” told the tale. The blond hand a hand in Gladio’s hair, was pulling it and mewling weakly but, other than that first whimper, sounded more like he was enjoying it than was in any pain. In fact his breathing had gone erratic and high, breathy, and unique warm sugar sweetness that came with an omega in pleasure was rolling off of him in waves. 

Nyx pulled away, pressed his face into Ignis’ neck and began to move faster, thrusting hard into Ignis, dragging noises from the omega and Noctis both. 

“Noctis.” Ignis moaned into his ear. His hand slipped between them to wrap around the base of Noct’s cock and squeeze at his inflating knot. “Alpha, I-”

A low cough and the cocking of a gun made them all freeze. Noctis looked past Ignis, eyebrow arching when he met the less than impressed eyes of Cid and, when he glanced down, the end of Cid’s shotgun. It had all the effect of being doused with cold water; Noctis was afraid of very little, durable as he was, but Cid was an old ally, and friend of the family. He knew things about them and there was little doubt there were rounds in that gun that would do real damage. 

That said Cid also knew that any attack here would not be good for him. Friends or not, Regis wasn’t going to take someone shooting Noctis well. The club would be burned to the ground and Cid, and his granddaughter, taken out before the ash had even settled. It would be a blow to the business, they did a lot of work out of the Palm, cleaning up money and moving drugs, but some things wouldn’t be allowed to stand.  

The look on Cid’s face said he had thoughts along the same vein. 

“Cid.” He started, pushing his mates away, and out of the focus of the shotgun. His knot started to ache almost immediately, body unhappy with the interruption. “Don’t-” 

“Now, I respect your daddies and appreciate everything they’ve done for me over the years, but if you boys aren’t out of here in sixty seconds, without touching any more of my staff, we’re all gonna have some regrets tonight.” Cid’s face was carved from stone, hard and furious. 

Noctis considered that for the amount of time it took Gladio to sit up, dragging the blond omega with him, and growl low in his throat. “Okay. We’re leaving. Call us when the shipment comes in.” 

Cid nodded once and, when Nyx slid out of the booth, cock still very hard and very out, stepped back but did not let the gun drop even a centimeter. It didn’t take them long to get into a state to leave, Crowe, Libertus, and Cor melting out of the shadows to join them and Gladio pulling free of his omega (there was nothing like the threat of a shotgun to make a knot go down in record time.). He scooped up the blond and tossed him over his shoulder, smacking him on the ass when he giggled and kicked his feet, too high on alpha touch and pheromones to remember he'd been protesting not twenty minutes ago. Gladio headed for the door, head held high and a smirk on his face, with the air of a man who’d just won the lottery. The others followed, leaving Noctis and Ignis for last. 

Only then did Cid let the gun fall, aiming for the ground. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, weariness plain in his voice. “Prompto’s a good boy, Noctis. Don’t let that wolf of yours do any more damage or next time you come around I’ll shoot on sight.” 

“I-” Noctis started, stopped, looked up at Ignis who swayed against him, pressed against his back. Ignis’ fingers drifted under his coat, touched the shoulder holster and gun Noctis kept there; a silent promise of backup. Noctis placed his hand over Ignis’ and moved it away. “Understood. Have a good night Cid.” 

They left the club behind, found Nyx waiting outside and headed right across the highway to the motel they were crashing in, and even though the trouble was technically behind them Noctis couldn’t help but feel it was, really, just starting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are...very rough in this chapter. Prompto is a teeny bit mind broken in the end but he'll be okay next time we see him. ...probably.

Prompto didn't really remember much after the bite or, rather, it was all hazy snatches of sound and scent and sensation that he knew, logically, came together to paint a picture he didn't want any part of but couldn't fully avoid either. Not when he woke up in a bed that wasn't his with some alpha draped half over him, pinning him in place. One large, bare and muscular, leg was thrown over his, curled around him to keep him close, and a hand was keeping a tight grip on his hip.

He was aching all over, but the worst was his neck, a fever hot blistering pain, a dull throb on his skull, and an uncomfortable feeling between his legs. No surprise there, not with the memory of teeth ripping into his the most fresh one of the night. He didn't remember the details fully but claiming always lead to fucking and knotting, to make the bond solid. It’d be more shocking if he wasn't feeling completely fucked out. 

Prompto was no virgin, there hadn't been a whole lot to do growing up in Hammerhead aside from smoking, gaming, and screwing around and being an omega meant he appealed to an array of people, but he'd never felt like this before. But then he'd never been fucked by an alpha before and he'd always heard that, for an omega, it was a whole different experience. He wasn't sure he cared for it, what he could recall, or the aftermath. He felt stretched wide, empty and aching, twinges of pain that were dangerously close to pleasure every time he shifted even a little. 

He could almost feel the alpha (Gladio, right? He was pretty sure that was his name.) inside of him still, thick and rock hard, forcing his way deeper inside of him with each roll of his hips. He'd liked it, in a half-out of his mind mind of way, being full, being pinned under an alpha, being made to open up bit by bit to accommodate. He could remember, bitterness welling up in the back of his throat, being unhappy when someone broke them apart, giggling when the alpha scooped him up and took him somewhere. Here? 

He’d dropped to his knees and opened his mouth on command, the deep commanding rumble of the alpha’s voice the only thing able to penetrate the fog around his brain. Part of him had been distant, horrified, but the rest had been all too happy to submit and please, too high on alpha scent and touch to think of refusing.  

Now, with the effects of the bite faded, he felt sick. 

And scared.

Panic simmered in the back of his mind, threatened to clog up his throat and make tears spill over, but he forced it back. Freaking out here and now would do him no good. At best he'd wake up the alpha and get tossed out on his ass, at worst...well, he didn't want to consider a worst. He just wanted to go home, take a long shower, and forget about all of this for however long it would take the bond to kill him. 

Withering was a terrible way to die, coming in stages an omega could do nothing to halt. First they started to get weak and tired until getting out of bed was painful and near impossible. Then eating became hard, starting with eating less and less until they couldn't keep anything solid down at all. Talking became impossible after that, making the withering a strange silent death in the end. Finally the omega stopped being able to hold down liquids and fell into a unending heat state. For all the medical shit out there, death always came in the end. The body tore itself apart, the heat raging through the weakened body, taxing the organs, demanding more energy than any IV or attempts at tube feeding could provide. 

He'd seen it up close and personal with his adoptive father. They'd been happy, here in dusty dead end Hammerhead, until an alpha had come breezing through. She'd made promises, laid claim, pretended to care, and then took them for everything and left. His father had been dead within a year, the alpha never seen again. 

Not that finding her would have changed anything. Ditching a bond was scummy but not a crime, no alpha could be forced to stay with an omega forever just because bonding was unfair and unequal. And if am alpha forced a bond and then ran out...well, that was why protection collars existed. An omega who hung around alphas without one was just asking for trouble 

Prompto didn't wear his to work because it fucked up his tips. Alphas liked to see his neck, liked to imagine their teeth in it, and when it was covered they got pissy and annoyed. He hadn't...he'd thought he was safe at work. And tips were all that stood between him and eviction. Tips kept his fleeting hope of getting out of this shit hole alive. He'd needed them more than he'd need the reassurance of a collar to keep himself safe. He’d-

“Are you crying?” A gruff voice demanded from above his head, the body pressed tight to his own vibrated with the words. Prompto tipped his head back, really looking at the alpha for the first time outside of the dim smokey light of the club.

He was handsome, if tall, tanned, and scarred were what a person was into. And he was huge, from the width of his shoulders to how large the hand sitting on Prompto's hip was to the weight and size of the cock pressing against his thigh. His hair was a dark tangle, falling into his face and sticking up in spots, and his eyes were amber slits, glassy with sleep. He cupped Prompto’s cheek and wiped at his face, swiping away the tears that had slipped free. Prompto blinked, stomach twisting at the almost gentle gesture. He ducked his head and tried to squirm away from the arm holding him down. The alpha shifted then rolled completely on top of him, arms coming down by his shoulders and knees by his hips. Prompto shrank back against the bed, fingers curling to fist the sheets. 

The alpha licked his lips slowly, eyes sweeping up and down over his body, then leaned down to push his nose into the crock of his neck. He inhaled and Prompto shuddered, a soft gasp leaving his mouth. He didn't mean to scent the alpha but, well, he was there, on top of him, breathing him in and-oh-tasting his neck with little kitten licks. The flat of his tongue rasped over the bite and, though it soothed some of the prickling pain, Prompto flinched away. He pushed at the alpha’s chest, near moaning in distress when he realized he was no less ‘stone wall’ like in the light of day. 

The alpha drew back to peer at him, eyes still heavy lidded and eyes foggy. “What? The bite’s bothering you, isn’t it? It’s deep.” 

Prompto blinked at him. Was...what? He looked to the side, swallowing. “Can you let me up? I...I should go. I have to work tonight-” 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” The alpha quirked an eyebrow at him. “The bond needs contact to settle. They teach that in school, don’t they?” 

Prompto opened his mouth then shut it, eyes widening. They did teach that a bond, a real bond, needed intimacy and uninterrupted time together, the longer the better, but what didn’t have to do with them? It wasn’t like this strange alpha meant to stay with him! Or maybe he just wanted to bond to go deep and strengthen to make the breaking that much worse? Maybe he was some kind of sadist and wouldn’t that be just Prompto’s luck? 

“What’s wrong with you?” The alpha asked, losing some of the softness of sleep in favor of annoyance. Prompto’s hands curled against the alpha’s broad chest, lips parting in shock then slamming shut, teeth grinding as fury swelled inside of him. The rage came on fast, burned his fear to ash and before he could stop himself he was screaming. 

“What’s wrong!? You...you fucked me and claimed me, in front of...and after I...rape! That’s rape and forced bonding and now I’m going to fucking die and you...fuck you! Get off of me! Get off get off get off getmrfh!!” 

He made a decent attempt at getting away, clawing at the alpha and, when a huge hand came down over his mouth to muffle his shouts he bite down as hard as he could. The alpha growled, fingers clenching down tighter on his cheeks, pressing down on his lips and mashing them against his teeth. 

“Stop.” He hissed then, when Prompto continued to thrash and shriek, rolled away from him with a snarl to stand beside the bed, leaving Prompto’s mouth free for the moment. He took a deep breath, intending to scream louder on the off chance someone would come and investigate, but the shout got stuck in his throat when he was yanked off the bed by his ankle. He hit the ground with a thump and groan, pain shooting up his spine, then yelped when his arm was gripped and he was forced to his feet. He dug his nails into the wrist of the hand curled around his bicep and tried to plan his feet but was dragged across the carpeted floor in spite of his best attempts. 

“Stop! What-let go! Just let me leave!” 

The alpha stopped in front of the room’s lone dresser; half of the top was taken up by a TV and the rest by an ice bucket, cups, and other odds and ends. Everything but the TV went crashing to the floor with one sweep of the alpha’s arms and Prompto was slammed down where the items had one been, breath leaving him in a burst as pain crawled over his chest. The alpha pressed against him, sharp elbow coming down in the middle of his back as a hand fisted in his hair and wrenched his head up and to the side. His cock rubbed against the swell of his backside, hot and growing rapidly. The anger drained out of him, replaced with panic. His toes curled into the rough carpet.

“Look!” Was growled at him. Prompto’s fingers scrapped against the wood laminate as his hair was yanked again to drive the command home, as if the way the alpha’s voice slammed into him with all the force of a brick to the face. He looked, breath stuttering in his lungs at the sight of himself, chest against the desk and neck stretched back, a tan hand twisted in his hair, dark reddish-purple marks littering his chest, collarbone, and neck. The one over his mating gland, just below and behind his ear, was the worst of all, red and raw, the jagged impression of alpha teeth pressed deep in his skin and just starting to scab over. There were others, on his arms, shaped like fingers and angry red marks that would no doubt become bruises of their own soon. 

He looked terrible, like he’d been in a fight and lost...which wasn’t untrue, he supposed. The alpha wrenched his head back further and leaned down to whisper in his ear, voice little more than a choked off snarl. 

“Look!  Look at your neck. Look at the marks I left. You’re mine now.” Prompto watched tears escape his eyes and whimpered, trying to huddle down and make himself smaller. “I’m the alpha. It’s my right to claim you and you know it, don’t you? You can feel it.”

Prompto closed his eyes against the harsh words, all too aware that not seeing it wouldn’t change anything and wouldn’t make what the alpha was saying any less true. He could feel something, a tug deep in his belly, a strange thrill when the alpha pressed against him harder, breathless as he nosed and then mouthed at his neck, working back to the mating mark. It was the bond, still new and weaving itself together, still weak but growing stronger by the minute. 

“No one is dying. You’re mine, I take care of what's mine.” Prompto pressed his lips together hard to keep the sob in the back of his throat there, muffling it into a distressed whine. The alpha paused, lips against his scent gland, just enough time for Prompto to tense up his teeth were sinking in. It hurt for a second, stinging and deep, and then faded into nothing as calm and heat rushed over him. 

Prompto groaned weakly when the alpha released the bite and let his head fall forward when the hand left his hair. 

“There.” He murmured against his ear. “Now when I fuck you, and show you your place, you can blame the bite for how much you like it.” 

A shiver ran down his spine and warmth sparked to life in his chest. He imagined the bond, thin dark threads, coming together to form thicker strands, twisting around his heart like an anchor. 

The alpha hooked his left leg by the knee and hiked it up onto the dresser, spreading Prompto open. Fingers touched his cunt, dragged along slick folds and then pushed into him. Prompto groaned again, fingers twitching and curling as the alpha’s thick digits thrust into him roughly. He was still wet and open from the night before, more sensitive than he could remember ever being. The alpha’s fingers twisted and pressed hard, meanly, but Prompto’s cock filled in response anyway.  

“Still dripping with my come.” The alpha said and when Prompto dared to look it was to see the alpha looking down between them, watching his fingers fuck into Prompto. 

When he replaced his fingers with his cock he did it with one hard thrust, pushing in nearly to the knot. Prompto went up onto his toes from the force of it, a noise between a squeak and a moan forced out of him. It was still a tight fit, shockingly so, and became tighter when he clenched down around the invasion. The alpha let out a rumbling grunt then began to fuck him, dragging out then slamming back in again and again. The dresser swayed under them and Prompto’s hip banged into the edge of it but he didn’t feel the pain that must have been there. 

He was drowning in sensation, overlapping with memories of the night before. It was so much, the alpha was so much, too intense. He arched and shouted, pressed his face harder against the cool dresser top as the alpha mercilessly took him, working in deeper until Prompto could feel the swollen bulb of his knot pressing against him.

It felt huge, too big for him to possibly take, and he couldn’t believe he had the night before even though he knew he must have. There was no way it would fit again, it was going to tear him apart.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.” The alpha told him as he ground against him, knot pushing pushing and then he was backing off, working him with short rolling thrusts. “Pretty little thing, wet and sucking me in. Gonna keep that tight cunt filled for days, make you forget all about running away.” 

Slick sounds filled the room, mixed with the alpha’s panting and growling as he fucked him harder, faster, gripped his hips to hold him still as he used his body. He growled things into his ear, praise and curses and promises and it all meant nothing to Prompto. There was nothing except the blazing heat deep inside of, the heaviness of being filled, the alpha's cock grinding against his slick soaked inner walls, his scent and warmth blanketing him, shutting out the rest of the world. It was good, so good, and even the part of him that had protested the night before was quiet, subdued under the alpha’s onslaught. 

It was like being drunk, dizzy and hot and aching. He was sore and overly sensitive, drooling onto the dresser, vision so blurred that he might as well not have had his contacts in at all. 

The alpha slammed into him, hard enough to make the dresser thump against the wall, and his knot ground into him again. Prompto hiccuped wetly and tried to shake his head. 

“N-nno. It’s-big. Too big.” 

The alpha huffed then jammed a hand under Prompto’s body to grip his cock. In the mirror Prompto could see, made hazy by tears, the alpha’s face was twisted with emotion and his eyes were bright, so bright, more gold than warm brown as he snapped out: “I don’t care if you think you can or not, you’re going to take my knot.”

A hard twisting stroke was all it took for Prompto to come, sobbing out his completion as he spilled onto the alpha’s hand. The alpha fucked him threw it, knot a persistent pressure against his hole until he was just pushing against him. Prompto felt himself, relaxed and trembling, parting to let the knot in. His body fluttered and clenched, grasped the alpha’s cock tight to keep him inside, tried to pull the knot deeper even as he squirmed and sobbed. Pain and pleasure mingled as he stretched and stretched, slick dribbling out of him like he was in heat. 

The alpha hissed when his knot finally popped in. Prompto’s mouth opened in a silent cry and his eyes rolled back, the world crashing down around him, into him, with a rush of blood in his ears. It was so big, overwhelming, changing him and reshaping him as the alpha worked it in further still with short rocking motions. Another orgasm crashed into him, sudden and sharp; it felt like it was dragged from deep inside of him by claws, hurt and hot blistering pleasure tearing at him and burning like salt in open wounds. He felt the other follow him over the edge, first a warm tickle inside of him and then hotter and thicker as gush after gush of seed filled his body. 

His knot, his cock, -his everything- seemed to grow; impossible and yet he felt heavier, more solid, was splitting him open further. Gladio continued to grind and hump against his spasming body, not stopping until he was spent. He let Prompto’s leg fall then, and slumped against him, though he was nice enough to not let his full weight come down on Prompto, and almost...shrank back into himself. 

Prompto blinked his eyes back open, staring at the mess of dark hair falling over his shoulders as the alpha nuzzled his hair. 

“Mine.” He murmured into Prompto’s ear, nipping at the shell lightly. “Don’t forget it.”

Prompto had nothing to say to that. In the moment it felt true, he felt raw and owned, claimed, inside and out, as if the alpha had carved out a place for himself in his very soul. 

And it wasn't over, not by half. The alpha, who wanted to be called Gladio (Gladiolu, he introduced himself as while they were tied together, but Gladio was what everyone called him) pulled out when his knot was deflated enough but before Prompto could do more than whimper at the feeling of seed and slick gushing free he was scooped up. He was carried like he weighed nothing, laid out on the bed, and made to part his thighs for the alpha to settled over him. Gladio hooked him under the ankles and pushed his legs up until they were bent and nearly pressed up against his chest before leaning over him. He felt the alpha’s cock, hard as stone, rubbing against his stretched open entrance and swallowed, toes curling in a terrible anticipation. 

Gladio smiled at him with too many sharp teeth, eyes catching the light and gleaming gold again. “No holding back this time.” 

Who exactly had been holding back he wanted to ask, but he’d know soon enough that the answer was both of them. The second go around was, perhaps, worse than the first. Not physically but in how completely inside out and upside down he felt after. 

Gladio slammed into his aching passage and proceeded to pound him into the mattress, shaking the bed and making the headboard slam against the wall with every powerful thrust. Prompto screamed until he was hoarse, in pain that melted into a red wash of bone rattling pleasure, and tore holes into the sheets underneath them. He was nearly bent in half and everytime Gladio was sheathed in him seemed like it might split him at the seams. He was so big, so deep, he could swear he felt him in his stomach, tasted him on the back of his tongue, was being completely hollowed out and filled with only Gladio. 

He had never felt less like himself in all his life. Instead he felt overwhelmed, hunted- _ wild _ \- under Gladio, something inside of him that had no business being seen in the light of day dragged closer to the surface the longer the brutal fucking went on. And it went on and on and on, one breathless orgasm yanked out of his body and rolling into the next, Gladio not so much as slowing down. 

Prompto swore and begged, but Gladio just smiled from behind the sweaty curtain of his hair and yanked his hips higher, deepening the angle of his thrusts. 

Oversensitized to a hot, aching awful wonderful point, Prompto thrashed and snarled, strained under the alpha as he dug his fingers deeper into the mattress. His body was on fire, his blood singing and boiling in him, and he was sparking and flaring up in his chest, his belly, his brain and couldn't begin to understand what was happening. Copper coated his tongue and when he threw his head back and came again it was with a sound he'd never heard himself make before, rumbling and sharp. He painted his belly and chest with his own release, clenched down around Gladio as his body went stiff, then collapsed bonelessly. 

Gladio finished what could have been five seconds or five minutes later for all Prompto was aware of the world beyond his own thundering heartbeat. The alpha panted and growled above him, nails digging into Prompto’s hips as he ground down into him. He grunted and went still, face twisted into a grimace. He kept his knot out of his body, though Prompto could feel the heat and throb from it pressed against his cunt, and after taking a deep breath, pulled out with a snarl, letting Prompto's legs fall down and spread. He splashed his seed over Prompto's skin in hard pluses, mixing with his own release on his belly, drenching his softening cock, dripping to mix with what was oozing out of Prompto's cunt. There was so much of it, thick and musky. Gladio stroked himself, wringing the last weak spurts from his cock, then fell back over him.

He entered him again with no less force than before. Prompto squealed, back arching off of the bed and wondered, as Gladio, every bit as hard as the first time and not seeming to lack for energy, began to fuck into him again, who exactly he'd ended up bonded to. 

This time Gladio finished fully inside of him and some part of Prompto counted it a blessing because at least there would be time before the alpha could go again. His knot swelled and locked into place, sending another jolt of stomach twisting sensation crashing into Prompto's belly. He heard a snarl and a crack as Gladio's hand slammed into the headboard above his head, but it was distant and warped, like noise in a tunnel. 

The world whited out around him.

Awareness came slowly, like waking up after a long night at work. He was still in the bed, though now he was between Gladio's legs, resting against the alpha's chest. He was shifted slightly, made to sit up some, and a bottle was pressed against his lips.

“Drink.” He did, gulping down cool water eagerly, uncaring as some dribbled down his chin. 

When the bottle was empty Gladio set it aside and offered up a chunk of cut up apple next, again pressed to Prompto’s mouth. He didn't hesitate in biting it from between the alpha’s fingers, moaning obscenely at the start, juicy flesh when it hit his tongue. He ate two apples, a plastic container of strawberries, and a sleeve of crackers that way, licking sweet and salt from Gladio's fingers, and drank another water bottle, mind pleasantly blank of all thought and body humming the entire time. 

“I'll order something after you wake up. Something with meat.” Gladio said as Prompto chased a stray drop of berry juice down to his palm. “You'll need the energy to keep up with me and for the...changes.” 

Prompto hummed, eyes drifting over to the deep gouges and crack that had been put into the wood of the headboard, and opened his mouth for another berry. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this on my phone so it might be more suspect, editing wise, than normal, but I didn't want to make you wait until tomorrow for it.

The first few days after what Noctis was wryly thinking of as the ‘Palm Incident’ were tense for him. He kept the pack more or less isolated to the motel with strict orders not to leave without checking in with him first; he didn’t imagine there would be any retribution for what Gladio had done from anyone in town, Cid didn’t generally employee the most stable and loved of people, but he wanted to be careful anyway. The last thing they needed was more trouble knocking on their door, since Gladio had already invited more than enough of that into their lives.

He’d talked to Gladio about it, as best as he could, during a grocery run of all things. His second was making sure his new mate was well fed and cared for which was kind of a surprise. He’d expected to have to argue with the other to keep the omega he’d claimed, the idea of having to kill someone because of Gladio’s dick not sitting well with him. And they would have to kill him, they couldn’t leave a bitten behind. Gladio was...well. He liked to flirt and he liked to fuck and he liked to spread himself around.

Which wasn’t a judgement or anything. It just wasn’t Noctis’ style, he’d had Nyx a large chunk of his life, had Luna for a little while (and that had been a wonderful disaster) and now he had Ignis. He’d never had any need to play around beyond that, though he knew Nyx sometimes wandered into Crowe and Libertus’ bed. He liked knowing who was next to him, liked waking up to the same bodies day after day. He liked the familiar blanket of Ignis and Nyx’s scent and warmth, the feel of their bodies.

It wasn’t at all strange for Gladio to pick up a hanger-on in every town. He was an expert at chatting up every omega or beta in a place, pulling numbers all night before deciding on one (or two or three) to take back to the motel. Noctis had never heard him breathe anything even close to a desire to settle down or take a mate. Yet now he’d done just that and was happily holed up in his hotel room, fucking his omegas brains out to make the bond as solid as possible. More than that, he’d sworn up and down he was feeding him, keeping him cleaned up, and otherwise being a good alpha.

If they looked past the whole rape and forced claiming part, which Noctis was in fact willing to look past.

He had his suspicions about what had made his friend change so suddenly, had felt that all consuming craving for an omega himself, but he was still surprised.

He was a little jealous, almost. There had been no bonding with Nyx, they were both alphas so claiming each other was impossible. Noctis could bite and bite, render Nyx’s mating gland bloody if he wanted to, but alpha blood only reacted to omega saliva and vice versa. Nyx was his, they’d fought, he’d won and then he’d fucked Nyx in front of the entire pack, but he wasn’t his like Ignis was his. And with Ignis they’d have to move on the next day, to be far away when people started looking for the omega, and then Regis had put them to work so there hadn’t been days of uninterrupted bonding like Gladio was getting. They’d had to alternate, one of them working and the other with Ignis, and when it was all said and done the bonds had been...not shaky, but not like Gladio’s was sure to be.

They were fine now, the bond between them solid and thrumming with life, Ignis fitting as a linchpin between himself and Nyx and creating a pseduo-bond of sorts, giving him a connection to his alpha mate he would otherwise lack. But if they’d had more time at the start they could have been closer from the get go. Gladio was lucky.

Maybe.

There was no doubt in his mind Cid had called his father and Clarus as soon as they’d left his club and that it would only be a matter of time before Regis called him and until Clarus called Gladio. They were both in for it, without a doubt, and Noctis would probably get it worse. He was the leader, the Pack Alpha, and it was his job to control his people. He’d been riding with his father since he was sixteen, had started building his own pack at 19 when he’d taken Nyx as his own (and thus Nyx’s pack) and had added to it slowly. Gladio, then Ravus (who came and went but always came back eventually), then Ignis and, most recently, Cor. Though the latter had been pushed on him by Regis when he’d decided Noctis was ready to ride alone and spent just as much time doing his own thing as helping them out.

Anything those in his pack did reflected on him. He would bare the brunt of Gladio’s actions, as well as his own failure to stop it. It was coming, he knew it was coming; it was just a matter of when.

Which had left them with a bit of time and nothing much to do. Noctis had, in rare show of responsibility, even spent some of it on business. Looking after shipments, checking in with their ground level runners, shooting emails to Luna and that creepy omega cult his dad insisted on associating with, going over numbers with Ignis, planning their next stop with Nyx, and more.

But that wasn’t enough to keep him busy the whole time and he did what he liked doing best with his down time: fucking his mates. It was, all told, a nice little diversion and was exactly what he was doing when he father called.

It was one of the rare occurrences where Ignis felt inclined to have them do what he wanted. There was something to be said about never letting an omega have power over their alpha but whoever had said that had never played any of Iggy’s games. Or seen him fresh from the shower, skin dewy and hair heavy with water, smirking as he walked towards them, because if they had they wouldn’t have any issue following his lead in bed.

Noctis had been sent to watch from the room’s kitchenette table and Nyx pushed back into the center of the bed, legs dangling over the edge as Ignis crawled over his body, slow and sensual, to straddle his face. Ignis’ voice had been a deep, silken purr, his lips pulled back to show omega fangs, smaller than the ones alphas had but sharper, as he told Nyx to get to work. Nyx hadn’t hesitated, lips parting hungry and eager for Ignis to settle his cunt over, tongue curling and lapping as Ignis began to grind down against his face.

Noctis liked to watch. He’d realized that early on, before Ignis even, but especially with their omega and he liked it even more when it was Nyx following Iggy’s lead. Ignis had a certain inner grace to him, a power in the way he moved, in the way he made Nyx chase and pant after him with just the flex of his thighs and the flick of his fingers. It wasn’t always like this, he’d seen their omega wrap Nyx around his fingers in everyday things as well (and, probably, had it happen to him) but it was something to behold like this. Ignis’ body rocked and stretched, muscles shifting under his skin, as sweat began to bead and slide down his body. His mouth stretched open to show his tongue dragging over his lips, over his teeth, and his fingers twisted in Nyx’s hair, pulling and smoothing as he rocked. His cock bobbed, hard and drooling precum, against his stomach with each slow roll of his hips.

Nyx only tried to reach up to hold onto Ignis once; the omega stopped moving and lifted himself up, just out of reach and the alpha quickly subsided, arms falling to the side and tongue wagging in silent pleading. Ignis laughed, thoaty and breathless, purred out a soft “Greedy.” before lowering himself back for Nyx’s attention.

The sounds between them were loud in the otherwise silent motel room, wet slurping, sucking, and muffled moans, and every single one went straight to his dick. He was hard, leaking into his shorts, and it took all of his will to stay back and just watch. But that was part of the thrill, the ache in his cock and balls, the dryness in his mouth, the way want and need bubbled up inside of him until he couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing he could take if he wanted, bend them to his will with a few words and his strength, but not doing it.

Ignis gave quiet, but forceful orders. Harder, deeper, roll your tongue, suck, and praised Nyx liberally when he did as told, head falling forward as he began to move with more force. Noctis was sure he’d be watching his omega come on their mate’s tongue, then perhaps taking Nyx after while Ignis watched and jerked off (that was always fun) when Ignis finally looked his way, heavy lidded and smiling just so.

Noctis didn’t need words to know he was being called and was on the bed in a flash, crawling up over Nyx to settling behind Ignis. His mate reached back, grabbed his hand to guide it down the cleft of his ass to push it against his hole. He was slick there, soft and ready when Noctis pressed a finger inside. Noctis’ stomach twisted with heat; Ignis had been busy in the bathroom, it seemed.

It took a moment to get the positioning right, to have Ignis lean forward enough for Noctis to slide into him while still being where Nyx could get to him, but the high pitched noise Ignis made when they got it right was worth it. Being inside him, hot and wet and grasping his cock tightly as he began to thrust into his body, was so much more satisfying after waiting. He was already on edge, had to struggle with himself to not just mount and fuck his knot into Iggy’s open, willing body.

He leaned over the omega and sucked and bit at Ignis’ neck, fit his teeth into the mark he’d placed two years ago and never really let close or heal up, wrapped his hands around his hips, and fucked with short, dragging motions, ground into him slow and hard when he bottomed out, did it just the way he knew Ignis got off with best. His reward came in the way Ignis called his name when he sank in just right, sharp and sweet, and the way his passage gripped and rippled around him. In his next breath it was Nyx he cried out for and that was as good as hearing his name, poured liquid heat into his blood. He felt his jaw shifting, his teeth lengthening and this, the slip of control, if only happened with these two.

When he dared to look down and around Ignis body he saw Nyx’s eyes, one blazing amber and the other eerie poison green, both focused adoringly on Ignis as his tongue slid, messy and wet, in, out, and around their omega’s sex. They slipped over to lock onto Noctis and he could feel it, feel him, creeping around the edges of the bond to Ignis, stepping deeper to fill part of that territory. Noctis shut his eyes and shuddered, driving harder into Ignis. A hand wound into his hair, pulled him back to Ignis neck, coaxed him to bit down again then moan around the taste of his mate, clinging to him that much harder.

They were different, his mates, and he loved them differently but also in the same desperate, maddening, way, so much it hurt. They both knew it, knew what they did to him. Nyx accepted it as a fact of life, knew Noctis would sooner kill him than ever let him go and put his full loyalty behind him in return, waiting for the day Noctis would lead them and believing he'd do it right. Ignis...if Noctis had ever made any mistake in life it was letting Ignis know how much power he had. Ignis was a planner, a thinker, had carved out a place for himself and refused to be just a pretty face on the back of a bike, and he made Noctis support him every step of the way.

“Touch me.” Ignis rasped and Noctis was helpless to do anything but obey, wrapping a hand around the other's cock and stroking. Ignis let out a sound like a sob and his body went vice tight around Noctis then loosened up, sucked him in. “Knot me.”

The demand was like a kick to the chest no matter how many times he heard it. He sucked in air through his teeth then reached between them to press fingers into Ignis, to spread him wider so his knot could fit, pressed and curled his fingers into trembling, silken muscle and-

His phone rang, shattering the bubble of lust around them shrilly. Noctis paused, head swiveling. He licked his lips, chasing the taste of blood; it was probably his father. “I can ignore it.”

“No.” Ignis said, already pushing him away. “Go. Be quick.”

It was his father, his name stark and somehow angry on the screen of his phone. The last thing Noctis saw before shutting himself in the bathroom was Ignis sinking down on Nyx’s cock.

Of all the bad timing. It was like his dad had a sixth sense for just wrong moment to call.

“Dad-”

“Don’t.” Regis growled, the beast lurking just under his words demanding his obedience. Noctis shut his mouth and eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the cool tile. There was silence, save his father’s deep even breathing; the noises from the mainroom had quieted, Ignis’ enthusiastic moans gone and replaced with low curious murmuring. Noctis’ hard on began to wilt. “You had your pick of seconds, you wanted him, and that makes him your responsibility. You let him do something that interfere with business. Cid is very fond of that boy Gladio decided to make his bitch, it took hours to talk him down. He wanted you out of town that night.”

Of course. Gladio would go and decide to sink his teeth into someone their fathers counted as their oldest and most loyal ally held dear. Cid had stuck by their side for decades, since before they’d been born, and Gladio had thrown that into question with one bite.

“I told him Gladio will be keeping his new mate and that went a long way.”

“He is.” Noctis said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He’s had him in their room, destroying the furniture and freaking out the housekeepers, since then.”

“Cor’s kept me informed.”

Noctis wanted to roll his eyes but managed not to. He’d seen that coming so why bother acting like he was offended? That was why Cor was here, really, to report back to Regis about his comings and goings and mistakes. Cor didn’t interfere, that wasn’t his style, but he did see and know everything and occasionally imparted enough knowledge to keep them from getting shot and smoothed things over with buyers and uneasy allies who weren’t sure about trusting Noct.

“See that he keeps that omega at his side. I don’t expect you to control how he treats him, but if anything happens to him before he finishes turning you and Gladio are both coming back to the main pack.” Noctis had nightmares about being called back to his father’s side, demoted back ‘Little Unruly Prince’ in the eyes of everyone around them except worse, because everyone would have known it was the result of failure and not just youth.

His father had always been fairly hands off with him, letting him roam as far as he needed to when the urge hit, understanding intimately how hard it was for alphas like them to be kept under the thumb of another. He’d tolerated a lot of shit, so long as Noctis never did anything that messed with business. They’d had some issue when he’d taken Nyx as his own (Nyx was an alpha, too damn old [a whole 12 years older than Noctis was] it meant losing one of his generals, it meant recalling Nyx’s entire pack, and so forth) and again when he’d brought Ignis home, to the Citadel, but in the end his father had agreed better that he’d claimed the omega then kept running back to the city to see him.

It had taken two years after claiming Ignis to get Regis to agree to this trial run. Traveling cross country, handling what needed handled without his father backing him up, control his people, make new inroads where he could, burn the bridges that needed it, keep their allies happy. He was supposed to prove his fitness as a future leader for their people, show he could do what needed done at all costs, show that he had proper judgement.

They were 3 months in and...well. Even Noctis had to admit it wasn’t going as well as it could have been.

“I’m giving you until that boy’s third moon to finish up all your work. If not you’ll come back to my side until I feel you’re ready. Gladio will start riding with Cor and Nyx will return to being my general.” Noctis’ eyes snapped open in shock.

“You can’t-”

“And Ignis will move to our southern compound.” Regis continued, overspeaking him without ever actually raising his voice. He did it with sheer presence, a king speaking to a subject and a father scolding a child all at once, undiminished by distance. “He can help look after Tredd and the pups.”

Noctis wasn’t sure if he wanted to snarl at the mention of Drautos’ mate (one of them anyway) or at the prospect of Ignis shuffled off, tending to the pack’s pregnant mates and children instead of with him. Ignis played a part in running the pack, nearly as much as Gladio and Nyx did, and Regis knew that. Forcing him south, like he was one of the useless pretty omegas some of the others kept around, was just cruel.

Ignis would lose his mind under those conditions.

And didn’t make sense. Ignis wasn’t carrying, there was no reason he couldn’t stay with Noctis, or Nyx if his father was so intent on punishing him. Omegas couldn’t be away from their alphas all that long anyway, it would do more harm than good and make it so one, or both, of them had to make frequent trips to the compound to keep him healthy.

“Or look after pups of his own. If you aren’t to be heading your own pack you could at least work on providing heirs. It would handle the matter of needing to visit.” Pregnant omegas didn’t need alpha contact for the duration or for however long they nursed; Noctis could be successfully kept from Ignis with no ill effects for the better part of a year, if not longer. Regis paused, a deliberate silence. “Or maybe Ignis would like to provide a new heir in a different manner, if you continue to prove unfit.”

He sucked in a breath, sharp and shocked but...maybe not that shocked. His father was fond of Ignis, more so than any of the other omegas brought into the pack. Still it wasn’t everyday one’s father threatened to knock up their mate, and it wasn’t the sort of thing his father was known for at all. Regis was hard, and Noctis had always thought him distant and a little cold, but he wasn't cruel. He didn’t punish needlessly or unfairly; in fact they’d taken in a lot of others from other packs because his father was so known for his fairness and willingness to overlook past offenses if a person would swear loyalty and take up the pack bond.

If he was really considering taking his mates from him...

Regis was quiet just long enough to let his words sink in then pressed on. “Cid will be contacting you when the package arrives, as was the original plan. In the meantime I have someone coming through, tonight, who needs taken care of. I trust you remember Axis? His shipments have been coming in light and he’s taken some detours through Niff territory on his own time.”

  
“I’ll take care of it.” Noctis promised dully. “All of it.”

“Make sure you do.”

\---

Gladio was barely off the phone with his father, ears still ringing from the dressing down he’d just gotten, when someone pounded on his door. He cast a glance back at the bathroom, where Prompto was taking a much needed shower, then went to answer the door, fairly sure he’d know who was there.

“Noct.”

Noctis laid a look on his that would have seen a lesser alpha on their knees, and even made Gladio’s stomach flip uncomfortably. He wasn’t there yet but with more time Noct would be giving his father a run for his money when it came to commanding others and making them bend to his will. But not yet, and it showed in the tension between his brows and the set of his mouth.

Whatever Regis had called to say had rattled Noctis completely, thrown him so much that his scent had gone sour and bitter.

“We’re working tonight.”

Gladio nodded stiffly. His father had mentioned as much, amidst telling him to get his shit together and demanding to know what had possessed him to bite some omega he had just met (and scoffing when Gladio had responded with ‘I had to. He’s my mate’ but then Clarus had mated with his mother out of convenience, never met an omega he felt like he needed more than air, never felt an instant pull that went to the marrow of his bones.) He’d laid down an ultimatum, prove he was worthy of being Noctis’ second and enforcer or else lose Prompto (bonds were tenuous in their kind for the first few months, even with a long bonding process, his omega could easily be assigned to a stronger alpha and that would be that.) and be recalled to Clarus’ side indefinitely.

Or, perhaps, even sent to be Iris’ second and, as impressive as his sister was, he had no desire to be under her thumb.

Noctis looked past him, at the tatters of the room, and grimaced before glaring up at him again. “Go and apologize to Cid. With the omega. Today.”

“I am not apologizing to some human be-”

“Apologize, Gladio, or go home.” Noctis stepped closer and it should have been comical because, really, Noctis was so much smaller than him but his eyes were violet slits and his teeth were bared, sharp and powerful, and the pack bond hummed in the back of Gladio’s mind. It was as far from funny as Clarus’ rage had been. “Fix what you did

He looked away, eyes lowering. “Fine.”

Submitting to anyone chafed, made him feel like he was trapped in skin that didn’t quite fit with how unnatural it was, but Gladio had played this game many times before. With his father, with Regis, with Cor; he had the scars to prove that he’d been put down on his ass many a time. He wasn’t sure if Noctis could do the same, their leader was...shockingly adapt when he needed to be and a lazy slacker the rest of the time, but he didn’t want to find out.

There was no good ending to that battle. Either Noctis won and was entitled to take what he wanted from Gladio in punishment (their elders had settled for leaving scars but last time Noctis had won an alpha conflict he’d walked away owning Nyx) or Gladio would win, rightfully be able to take control, have damaged Noctis’ reputation, among other things, and he wanted none of that.

Sometimes taking a hit to his pride was the best option. It had only taken him until he was 30 to figure that out.

Noctis left without another word. Gladio leaned out of the room to watch his oldest, best, friend stalk back down the walkway to his room, feeling a gap opening between them with each step. He couldn't imagine what Regis had said to get Noctis to act like that and he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to know. He didn’t deal with guilt well, never had, and the less he knew about the situation the less he had to feel badly about.

He didn’t want to feel bad about this. He’d done the right thing, no different than what Noctis had done with Ignis. ...well, a little different. He could still remember, like it was yesterday, when Noctis had met Iggy. They’d been in a coffee shop, dead on their feet but not even half done with the clean up after a bad weapons buy, Noctis dragging worse than the rest of them...and then he’d laid eyes on Ignis and become a whole different person. Wide eyed, awkward, reeking of want, lingering in the shop long after they should have left, trying to get a dismissive omega to just speak to him.

He’d said it was like being electrocuted and pulled apart all at once the minute he’d laid eyes on Ignis. Someone had just taken hold, told him with every fiber of his being that he needed *that* omega, had to have him, would never be complete or happy without him. Gladio had never understood how that could work, not until he’d seen Prompto.

He’d been on fire, breathless, damn near giddy as the beast that always lurked just on the edge of everything surged up and howled ‘Mine’. So he’d made Prompto his (or, not, Prompto had already been his, just not...completely), right then and there. It was the right thing, he knew that. He felt the rightness in his heart, in the way all the alpha parts of him yearned like they never had before, in how whole he felt when he was inside of Prompto.

And maybe Noctis had spent a year chasing after Ignis, falling more and more in love, but in the end it had been the same. This was just the way there kind was, the way alphas were. They saw, they commanded, they took; and now suddenly there were to be consequences?

And consequences for Noctis as that, something Gladio hadn’t considered at all. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the oily crawl of guilt trying to settle in his stomach.

“Prom!” He called, pushing the bathroom door open.

His mate, standing on the mat and dripping water as he toweled off his hair, jumped and whirled around to face him, lips parted in shock. Fear spiked in the air between them, a scent like rancid milk then faded some, smoke and fire anger taking its place. Prompto tore the towel from his hair, dropping it to cover himself instead then, when Gladio rolled his eyes, scowled and turned away again. Gladio took a moment to admire his ass, a pert thing, nicely sized, and it bounced so nicely and fit his hands just-

No, not the time.

“Get dressed, we’re going outside.”

Prompto snorted darkly and resumed drying himself, rubbing the towel over his body slowly. “Dressed in what? You tore the buttons off my vest and shorts, shredded my shirt, ruined my underwear.”

That was...all completely true. Gladio ducked out long enough to take one of his t-shirts from his duffle bag. Prompto gave it a look that could only be called scathing but didn’t say anything as he shrugged it on. He was swimming in it, the hem falling below mid thigh and the neck slipping down over his shoulder. He stared at Gladio flatly.

“...where do you live? We’ll go there first; I can’t take you back to the Palm like that.””

Prompto’s expression cracked, sliding from blank to panic. “Wh-what? Back to the-to the Palm? Why would you d-do that? To humiliate me more? The first time wasn’t enough?”

“No.” Gladio snapped, hand darting out to curl around the back of Prompto’s neck and tug him closer. “To humiliate me. Come on.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio solves problems with murder. Prompto solves them in other, even less healthy?, ways

“You live here?” Gladio asked, head tilted back to look at the ramshackle apartment building Prompto had called home for the past three years. Before that he’d lived with his father, about an hour out of Hammerhead on an old farm, but the Withering had changed all that. Medical bills had started to pile up, his father had stopped being able to work, and in the end Prompto had arranged to sell the place in an attempt to…

He didn’t know what, in hindsight. Stay afloat? Buy time and care for his father, even though he’d known it was pointless? Get away from that sad, empty house and all it’s memories? 

In the end all he’d done was make enough money to cover medical bills, hospice care, and a funeral, and made himself functionally homeless. He’d had to stay above Cid’s garage for a while; the older beta had been a friend of his father and done his best to help out when everything went bad. He’d give Prompto a job, helped him get the apartment, fixed up his shitty car for free, had given him advances of his pay often enough that it was embarrassing. If Prompto had ever asked Cid probably would have done even more, fixed all of his issues, but asking for what help he did had been hard enough. 

He’d never wanted charity, just...a chance. 

The place was less than impressive. Gray stone exterior, graffiti on some of the walls, a few of the windows covered in plywood after the latest in domestic disturbances that seemed to plague the place, a front walk up that was more dirt and yellowing weeds than grass, and a selection of vehicles in the front lot that clearly hadn't moved, or been touched, in months if not longer. Everything had a layer of grime to it and the sun seemed to cast a greasy, sickly light that made the world shimmer like a heat mirage. He could smell decay and blood and- Prompto blinked once, twice, and the scents, and the wavering of the world, went away. 

“Yeah, this is it. I know it’s shit.” He muttered, sliding off the back of Gladio’s bike and rubbing at his eyes. Weird. “Don't need you to tell me.”

His body was still thrumming with the vibrations of the bike, heart still racing from fear when Gladio had taken a few sharp turns. His legs wobbled a little, not quite ready to stand under this own power but before he could straighten, or fall, he was being held up and in place by Gladio by an arm around his bicep.  The alpha’s other hand came to rest on the small of his back, warmth seeping through the thin fabric of the too big t-shirt, and guided Prompto to lean against him. 

“Give it a minute. Takes time to get used to riding.” He said, hand rubbing small soothing circles against his back. 

Prompto let his head thump against the alpha’s chest, not for the first time unsure what to make of Gladio. What he'd done in the club… and then in the motel room, more of the same. Holding him down, biting him, forcing him into more sex, fucking him so brutally he was surprised he was even up and walking so soon. But he'd also been slower, even gentle with him at times, holding him up in the shower to clean him, feeding him, curling around him at night, talking to him about things like they were something other than an alpha and his captive omega.

It was whiplash, going from something that was so painfully normal, almost nice, to animalistic fucking, clawing, growling, destroying the furniture, swearing, and fighting. It confused him and, in a way, he was more afraid of the calm moments because it was easy to be lulled by them, whereas at least when Gladio was more beast than man he knew what to expect from him. 

In times like that it was more himself that shocked him, as everytime they came together in a clash of limbs and raking nails and biting mouths he found himself...different. Angry, horny, baring his teeth and pushing, pulling, demanding; the whole world would go red and sharply focused, all of his senses narrowing down to focus on the alpha but expanding at the same time, stronger than ever before. 

He wasn’t sure if some part of Gladio was infecting him through the bond or what, but he didn’t like it. Didn’t like not understanding it, or how when those moments were over he wanted nothing more than to be held and petted, to stretch out and sleep half sprawled over Gladio, purring contently as fingers carded through his hair. 

He didn’t understand himself anymore. He hated the alpha, had sat up more than once in the night and thought very seriously about smothering him while he slept, until the bond started twinging painfully to remind him that wasn’t possible. He wanted him to suffer, to feel his whole life slipping away like Prompto’s was now. 

And he wanted him. Just...wanted him. 

He took a deep breath then pushed away from Gladio, shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts. “Come on. Let’s get this done.” 

“I have to make some phone calls.” Gladio said, attention turning back to the building again. “I’ll be up. Which apartment?” 

“213. It’s the back hall, second floor.” He took another step back, looked down at his bare feet, the yellow paint on his toes mostly chipped away. “I’ll leave the front door propped open.” 

Gladio nodded, already turning away with his phone at his ear, leaving Prompto to shuffle away from him and into the apartment building. The inside was lit with a near orange light, making the puke green, threadbare carpet that much more disgusting to walk over. He hurried, cringing at the thought of what kind of fluids and dirt might be ground down into the fibers, up the stairs and down the hallway to his place. 

He didn’t have keys but that wasn’t a problem, the door had been busted for weeks and Max, his landlord, was too much of a shit to fix it. He’d blamed Prompto, like he’d wanted to be robbed for what little he had, and he’d become resigned to having to fix it himself. Maybe that was one small upside to having some fuckass biker claim him; he wouldn’t have to spend money he didn’t have on a new lock *or* worry about whoever had robbed him trying to come back to do worse. 

Which was possible since whatever alpha fuck had broken in had taken the time to piss on his carpet, like a dog trying to mark territory. He’d had to go to Cindy for help with that, in the form of the clubs carpet cleaning machine, but that didn’t mean that whoever had done it wouldn’t get drunk again (at least he hoped they’d been drunk) and try to find the omega’s nest they’d decided to claim. 

Everything inside was just how he’d left it. Bare. Sparse. Sad. Nothing of note except a potted plant, half dead in the corner, and a little picture frame with a picture of his father holding him, chubby and gummy mouthed, as a toddler. He went for that first, opened up the back of the frame to ease out the mess of bills taped inside and then the picture itself. He collected his old duffle bag, straps worn and barely hanging on to the stiff canvas, and laid the money and photo into a pocket. 

He looked around the small front room, taking it all in. The kitchen, sectioned off by an off yellow formica covered bar, the tiny stove and frig, near nonexistent counter space. The combined dining room/living room, with it’s third hand couch and milkcrate and duct tape table, the bookshelf crammed full to the point of sagging. He’d had a laptop but it had been smashed and stank of urine after the break in, so other than maybe his favorite books there was nothing of value. 

The bathroom and bedroom were behind the only other door, aside from the front door, currently propped open by an old boot. It liked to swing shut of it’s own accord and then get stuck, years of rain caused swelling and shrinking having warped the frame beyond saving, and Prompto had spent many a night on the couch, too tired after work to bother trying to force it open. 

He had clothes, more books, and a few more pictures in there but, other than that...nothing. 

He had nothing. He was nothing, really, and when he was gone it would be without leaving a mark of any kind. He had, unknown to Gladio, been the perfect target to snap up and take away. 

He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to force back the burn of tears. Fuck. *Fuck*, this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking-

“Prompto!” He actually groaned out loud at the familiar, oily voice. He turned, mouth twisted into a frown, to face his landlord. 

Max was older, in his forties or fifties if Prompto had to guess, with oily platinum dyed hair, a body earned with steroids and lots of arm days (but minimal leg days) in the gym, a love of alpha pheromone cologne, and a closet full of clothes only in white and cream. A gold chain hung around his neck, holding a stylized M on it, and heavy rings were crammed on his fingers. 

He liked to flirt, and by flirt Prompto meant get into his face, grab his ass, and offer to reduce his rent for blow jobs or ‘a chance to sink into that tight pussy you’ve got Prompto, knock the cobwebs off that thing.’ Prompto would have rather died untouched than ever let Max touch him but he’d never been able to say that, needing a place to live and all. 

He sighed, suddenly so tired that standing up was a hassle. He dropped his bag and stepped around it to cross closer to the beta, not wanting him to get any ideas about coming inside. Or to realize he was packing up, to keep him from trying to demand last month’s rent. “Yeah Max? Did you need something?” 

He wasn’t late with the rent yet, he didn’t think. He hadn’t been trapped in that motel that long, had he? Maybe? The days had kind of melted together there, marked only by food and Gladio’s cock scorching him on the inside, reducing him to a drooling, snarling mess. 

“I heard about what happened at the club.” Max said, the picture of sincere pity and sympathy. Prompto stopped in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. He’d heard? Did the whole town know then? ...probably. It wasn’t like there was much else to call news in Hammerhead, and he knew there were some people at The Palm who hadn’t cared for him, didn’t like that he was wary of making friends, thought his refusal to dance meant he thought he was better than him, didn’t like that Cid and Cindy favored him. A chance to spread around how he’d ended up with some alpha knot deep in him had probably been the highlight of their week.

He didn’t realize he was touching his neck, the still raw mating mark, until he saw Max’s eyes flick up towards it. He stopped, forcing his hand to drop, and raised his shoulders into a helpless shrug. “It...it happens.”

“It shouldn’t have.” Max stepped closer, past the threshold, voice dripping sincerity. “You’re a good kid Prompto, you deserve better than what those other sluts at your job put up with, or to be used up and tossed aside. You deserve a nice guy, to take care of you.”  

Prompto closed his eyes, teeth grinding together. He was almost certain that was supposed to be a compliment but it was so wrapped up in bullshit it was hard to tell. He didn’t have time for this; he wanted to be done before Gladio had to come collect him. 

Mostly because he wasn’t quite sure he didn’t want to sneak out the back, run away, and hopefully be left alone to die in some other backwater town, free until he withered. 

“Look, Max-” He started then yelped in surprise, eyes snapping open when a soft, damp hand cupped his face. He had a second to stare in alarm, unable to comprehend what was happening, before Max’s mouth was crushing against his. 

His mouth parted in shock and then he was trying to recoil in disgust as a wet, sour tasting tongue thrust into his mouth. Max held him by his shirt, hand fisting in the fabric, and continued to plunder his mouth, tongue sweeping around, spit smearing between them, false alpha scent making his eyes burn. Prompto gurgled, dry heaved, pushed at the man harder and thought ‘why is this happening to me?’ The hand on his face was suddenly on his legs, sliding between his thighs, cupping him between them. 

No. No. He wasn’t going to let this happen. Fuck Max, fuck Gladio, fuck all of this. 

He bit down hard and, when Max reared back in shock, he threw himself back as hard as he could. The sound of fabric tearing was almost a relief because with it came freedom. 

Prompto stumbled back, fingers clutching the torn collar of Gladio's t-shirt to his body, trying to keep it from falling and exposing more than it already did. The other hand scrubbed at his mouth on reflex, as if that would banish that taste and feel of Max's lips from his own. A part of him, the part that had come to life with the bond, snarled and snapped and a red wash of rage swept over his vision.

He bared his teeth on a snarl and only distantly thought 'What the fuck am I doing?' Max smiled, wavy white hair falling around his thin, sharply angled face.

Max's touch was clinging to his legs and thighs, oily and wrong, so wrong! He wanted to peel the skin right off, to be rid of it; his body screamed the wrongness as shrill as a police siren. Wrong wrong, not again, not- He wasn't going to let anyone else touch him, take from him, without his permission. Not again, never again, he wouldn't- couldn't- fuck he was going to be sick.

His apartment darkened around him, the faint scent of smoke sharpening and for a beat he was back at the club, he was being grabbed, dragged down, he was-

"Oh, has the little omega found some balls? Did that biker fuck them into you?" The beta man stepped closer, cheap alpha scent cologne so strong and foul it made Prompto want to retch as he came back to the present. He'd never liked Max and just staying far enough ahead of his rent to keep the beta from trying to slither between his legs had been one of his major motivators in life.

He took a step back even as he growled louder, a warning that rumbled in his chest, and his fingers bent like claws. "You need to get out of here Max."

"Or what, you'll fight me off like you did that biker? Heard he bent you over and made you his bitch in front of everyone, got you knotted up and filled up like some whore." Max smiled, curved beta eyeteeth peeking over his bottom lip. It was already swelling from Prompto's vicious bite. "Heard you were moaning for it Prompto, gagging like you were in heat while some alpha you just met plowed your cunt. But you wouldn't even give me the time of day, played the good boy who won't spread for just anyone when you were just another knot hungry cunt."

Max shook his head mournfully, uncaring of how Prompto was shaking in anger, and humiliation. "And now here you are, bitten up and dropped to wither."

Fuck, he wished he’d been left to wither instead of having the alpha who’d ruined his life want to *keep* him. It would have been easier to deal with than Gladio’s constant shifting from kind and caring to rough and demeaning. 

"But I'm a good guy, and I'm willing to give you a shot to turn it around. I don't usually go for hard used goods-" Max moved deeper into his living room, moving smoothly around the duffle bag in his way. He had the nerve to look nice, sympathic even. "Bu t it doesn't smell like he bred you. So how about you let me breed you up, buy you a little more time. I'll treat you nice, keep you happy."

Prompto's stomach turned and bile tried to force it's way up the back of his throat.

"Might as well. Not like anyone else would want to touch you now that you're-"

In a movie that would have been the moment the love interest kicked in the door and punched out the creep. In Prompto's life, which was more horror than anything else, Gladio just walked in with no real fanfare, strip of jerky hanging out of his mouth, saddle bags draped over his shoulder. He stopped and blinked at Prompto. Prompto blinked back at him and Max, realizing Prompto's focus had shifted, turned to see what was happening behind him. Gladio's eyes drifted from Prompto's face to the torn t-shirt.

Gladio's face twisted, went dark and furious. The bags were tossed and faster than Prompto could track Gladio lunged forward. Max shrieked.

Gurgled and threw a hand up.

Wheeled around, eyes bulging and mouth open, tongue out. Stumbled drunkenly, a hand clutched over his throat as a wet croaking bubbled out of his stretched wide lips.

Blood dribbled from between his fingers.

Prompto sucked in a shocked breath, a scream building inside of him.

Max's knees buckled and his hands went out to catch him as he fell forward. Blood sprayed in an arc, splattering Prompto's face, coating his open mouth. Max's throat was a deep jagged gash of torn skin, tissue, and gushing blood.

Prompto hadn't even seen Gladio pull out a knife.

The world tilted and suddenly he was in the ground, less than a foot from where Max was clawing at his throat and gasping, blood covered teeth and tongue visible, pristine white clothes stained red and pink, eyes wet and rolling. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, just a huff of air

"Hey hey, don't do that." Gladio was on him, hauling him up and pushing him away, back towards the small bedroom. "Shush, it's fine. It's fine."

Prompto screamed. He screamed and screamed, couldn’t make himself stop screaming. His throat was raw, maybe from all the screaming and crying of the past few days, maybe because Gladio had fucked his throat earlier that day (and then fucked him, bent nearly in half, up against the shower wall), and now it felt like needles were tearing at it from the inside. He screamed anyway, through the sharp stinging pain, through tears he couldn’t control, screamed when Gladio picked him up and took him into the next room, all but throwing him down onto the bed when they were close enough.

The alpha dropped down over him, straddled his waist, and grabbed him by the arms. He shouted things, hissed at him to be quiet, to stop before someone came to investigate, to shut his fucking mouth, shook his hard, and Prompto just beat against Gladio’s chest with his fists and. kept. Screaming.

He couldn’t stop. He kind of wanted to stop, some part of himself whispering that if Gladio went to jail he’d have to go along with him because that’s what happens to omegas bonded to murderers, they went to jail to protect them from withering, and he didn’t want that, he didn’t want this, he didn’t- didn’t

Gladio was still saying things but all Prompto could hear was the gurgling sound of Max dying in the next room, each breath a wet gasping wheeze, weaker than the last and god, why could he hear it? He didn’t want to heard it. 

He needed it to stop. 

Beating turned to weak pushes turned to grasping the alpha’s collar and pulling until their mouths were meeting. Gladio went stiff in surprise above him but Prompto persisted, licked at the seam of his lips, sucked and pressed until finally the alpha softened for him. 

Gladio tasted of mint and soon Prompto did too, the taste of blood licked out of his mouth. Gladio’s hands were rough, not soft and grossly wet, ran over his skin and made him warm, hot, sweat and pant and maybe he still felt sick, but it was a different kind of sick. It was consuming, eating him from the inside, taking over everything, making the world shrink down to just Gladio, only Gladio, just like all the other times they’d had sex. 

He pushed the alpha’s pants down, grasped his cock, velvet soft and hard as rock, and stroked. He thumbed at the crown, smeared precum over the length, and licked his lips as the sound of Gladio breathing finally pushed back all other noise. Good. That was...good.

He pushed the alpha back, swung a leg over, and sank down on his cock. Gladio swore, hips pushing up so hard he almost threw Prompto off, then reached for him, slid his hands under the ruined shirt, caressed his hips, stomach, cupped the soft swells of his chest, and together they began to move. 

Gladio was quiet for a change of pace, words low and pitched strangely, nonsense about how good he felt, how Gladio was going to keep him, how he’d kill anyone who touched him, as he rocked up into Prompto, eyes bright molten gold as he stared up at him. 

Prompto stared back, mouth open and vision foggy, rising and falling as he chased after his release, and didn’t think anything at all. He didn't notice, or didn't let himself notice, that Gladio had left bloody fingerprints on his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

Gladio wiped them up afterwards, carefully wiping away the cum from both of their bodies and the streaks of red from Prompto’s skin. Prompto watched, mind blessedly blank, and allowed himself to be moved this way and that then redressed in the shirt Gladio was wearing despite literally being in his bedroom, within arms reach of his own clothing. Then the alpha curled up around him and rubbed his back with slow circles. Prompto wouldn’t say he fell asleep exactly but he did slip away some, sinking into the warmth of Gladio’s body and the oddly comforting scent of the alpha. The only sound for what seemed like forever was the thumping of Gladio’s heart. 

He wasn’t sure how long passed when Gladio began to slowly move away from him. Prompto stayed exactly where he was, not stirring when the alpha gently rolled him onto his side or open an eye when heard the alpha’s phone come to life. He heard everything, each button press and the ringing then, distant and tinny, a voice. 

“This had better be important?” Someone growled. 

Gladio’s hand drifted down the bare skin of Prompto’s thigh. “I...there was a incident, at Prompto’s apartment.” 

“What the fuck is- oh. Oh. Your omega.” The person sighed; the voice was vaguely familiar but not so much so to bring a face to Prompto’s mind. Still logic suggested it was one of the other bikers from the club. “What do you need?”

“Clean up?” Gladio sounded decidedly sheepish. His hand opened up and pressed against Prompto’s skin, curled tight to the back of his calf. “There was some annoying beta fuck here, talking about breeding him and...well. I lost my temper.” 

Another sigh. “Seriously? You don’t even know-”

“Just because you’ll let everyone take a turn with Ignis-” Gladio snarled, and the person on the other land snarled Gladio’s name back at him. All at once, just like that, Prompto could almost feel him deflating. “I don’t...look. I need some help here. ...And maybe you could send Ignis? So someone can be here with Prom while I handle this.” 

“Whatever.” Came the tart reply. “Text the address.” 

Gladio made a noise when he tossed his phone aside them flopped back down to toss as arm around Prompto. He pressed against his backside, holding him close, and pressed his nose into his neck, breathing him in deeply. Prompto stayed perfectly still, all the hazy warmth long gone. Was that all a murder warranted to cover up? A casual phone call and then it would be cleaned up like it had never happened? 

Was something like that so normal for them that the person Gladio had called hadn’t even sounded surprised or upset? Impatient, at worse, maybe a little irritated but no more than that. And Gladio had more than proving that he wasn’t bothered by what he’d done. 

Twenty minutes later knocking on the door had Gladio rolling away from Prompto, still resolutely pretending to be asleep after what they’d done and leaving him alone, carefully pulling the door near closed after him. 

Prompto shifted, rolling over to clutch his pillow tight to his body and curled in on himself. He felt...strange. Shakey, terrified, sick to his stomach, and disgusted with himself in equal measures. Everything smelled of sex and blood, a mixture that made him want to vomit, scream, or at least scrub his skin raw to rid himself of the phantom feeling of Gladio’s fingers on his skin. His eyes burned behind shut lids and he could barely breathe; he had to take shallow strained breaths to have any hope of chasing away the tightness in his chest. The room was smaller than it should have been, seemed to be closing in on him and even his skin was strange, too tight, ill fitting. 

Behind his eyelids two scenes played out, blended into a bloody kaleidoscope of death and sex, Max in an expanding pool of blood, air leaving him in bubbling wheezes, Gladio under him, eyes blown wide and and lips parted in pleasure, Gladio’s hand flashing and blood arcing as he attacked Max, Gladio holding tight to his hips and helping him rise and fall on his cock, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, Gladio’s mouth and skin and sweat layering on his tongue. Keeping it all separate in his mind was impossible and it wasn’t really separate at all, was it? 

He’d watched Gladio kill a man, been up close and personal as Max bled out onto the carpet, and then he’d turned around and fucked the alpha. Not just allowed bloody hands to touch him but demanded it, kissed first, touched first, slithered his way onto Gladio’s body and taken him inside all on his own. 

He didn’t know his own mind, didn’t know why he’d done it. The rush of fear and horror that had given way to arousal, to *need*. He didn’t...that wasn’t him. None of it made sense, nothing was coming together or fitting the way it should. 

How could Gladio kill so easily and then be so...gentle after? 

Prompto had known, intellectually, that Gladio was a biker and didn’t have any problem with forced claiming, so it stood to reason he wasn’t exactly a Nice Man. Maybe he’d had a passing thought about crime, though not much of one considering the past few days and besides, he hadn’t wanted to just assume anything...but. But. Killing. Murder, done so casually? That was...his mind hadn’t gone there at all. 

Just who was he bonded to? 

And who, Prompto wondered, was it turning him into?

“Bloody hell Gladio.” A lightly accented voice filled his quiet apartment. “Look at this mess." 

“Come off it Igs, you’ve seen worse.” Prompto’s alpha paused and something moved, thumped, out in the main room. “I think you’ve done worse.” 

“Maybe, but he don’t let it sit and start to dry in the fucking carpet.” Someone else said. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to call for me?” 

“That wasn’t my fault.” Gladio grumbled, sounding a bit defensive. “My omega...anyway. Where’s Crowe? Can’t she just wiggle her fingers-” Gladio’s voice dropped low, so low Prompto couldn’t make out the words but whatever he said made the second man laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever, I know. That’s not how it works. So, Lib, what are we doing?” 

‘Lib’ snorted loudly and something else thudded against the ground. “Breaking this down and hauling it away. Might have to tear up the floor underneath, we’ll see. You got the guy’s ID? Yeah, yeah, good. I’ll send the info to Pelna, he’ll figure out how bad this is.” 

Prompto listened, stomach churning unhappily as metal clanked against metal, his furniture was moved about and, finally, strange squishing and cracking noise. He clung tighter to the pillow, gagging as a wet fleshy slapping noise rang in his ears. He was a whole room away and he didn’t think they were actually being that loud and yet he felt like he was in the room with them, able to hear every breath and disgusting drip of fluid hitting the floor, every dull bang of something hitting the ground, every scrap of metal against-

He didn’t want to know what against. 

He shuddered, eyes shut tight, and pulled the pillow over his head to try and block out the noises but if anything they got louder, each one like it was next to his head. He gritted his teeth and 

“Ignis? What are you-?” 

Prompto’s door opened with a creak. The scent of omega, sweet and spicy all at once, curled into the air and reached out for him, sweeping over his skin like a warm hand. “Prompto was it? You might as well get up, I know you’re awake and you need to start packing. We won’t be staying long once everything is cleaned.” 

Prompto didn’t move for a long moment, heart in his throat, half hoping that if he was very still whoever that was would just leave. His door creaked again, closed this time, and muffled footsteps started towards him. The scent came closer as well and, with a yank, his pillow was torn away. His eyes snapped open and his head whipped around. 

It was the omega from the club. Green eyed with sandy blond hair, full lips twisted into an annoyed frown; he dropped the pillow and crossed his arms over his chest, head cocking to the side. 

“Well? Are you getting up or not? You could use a shower.” His nose wrinkled in unveiled disgust. “You smell like you’ve been rolling around in Gladio’s sweat and spunk” 

“I like it!” Gladio shouted from the other room. 

Green eyes cut to the side. “How alpha of you.” 

He said alpha the same way someone would spit a curse. Prompto waited, curled in on himself, for Gladio to barge in and yell or hurt the omega or something like that. But, other than some grumbling from the front room, there was nothing forthcoming and Prompto was left wide-eyed and confused. 

The omega focused on him again, frown deepening. “I haven’t introduced myself have I? I’m Ignis. Noctis, the leader of the pa-group is my alpha, as is Nyx. I have...I am aware of how hard being brought into this group can be and I suppose Gladio thought it might be beneficial for me to help you while he fixes his mess.” 

He thrust a hand out towards Prompto, eyes bright behind the dark lenses of his glasses. “And I think a shower will do wonders.” 

Prompto hesitated a second longer then, throat tight, reached to take the other omega’s hand. 

\---

Libertus popped his head in while Prompto was taking his roughly twenty minute shower (Ignis wasn’t judging. He’d taken a few half hour showers in his time, since being brought into the pack), minus the bloody plastic rain poncho and gloves he’d been wearing when Ignis had left the room, to let him know he and Gladio were leaving but would be back around to get them soon. He nodded and waved Nyx’s beta off, attention on sorting through Prompto’s clothing. 

He was still at it when the blond omega finally slunk out of the bathroom, clad it nothing but a towel and looking slightly less miserable than he had before his shower. And smelling far less like he’d been engaging in marathon sex with a certain alpha. Prompto spared him, and the piles of clothing he’d made, a confused glance on his way to the bedroom door. He looked out then yelped.

“They pulled up my carpet? That fast?” 

“They’re very efficient.” Ignis said mildly. “And it’s easier to replace the whole thing than a body sized blood soaked square.”

Prompto winced, shoulders hunching and head ducking. “R-right. Where are they taking the-t-the body?” 

“There’s a quarry where we’re having a meeting later tonight. Nyx was already scouting it out with Crowe, so it was a simple enough thing to have them start digging a hole.” Ignis said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll be gone before he’s missed and long before he’s found.”   

Ignis tossed another t-shirt into the discard pile, which was now overflowing from Prompto’s small garbage can, more for the sake of hearing Prompto’s strangled sound of shock than actually thinking Gladio would hate it. Still, they had to travel light so it was probably for the best.

“I’m not going to have anything but my work shorts and underwear when you’re done.”

“What made you think I was packing underwear? I’m fairly certain Gladio prefers his...lovers without.” Ignis asked, tone bland, as he considered a sturdy pair of boots in the back of Prompto’s closet. Prompto was pointedly silent. Ignis cast him a look, sympathy he didn’t want to feel gnawing at him again. Had he been like this, overwhelmed, broken open and raw, hemorrhaging his emotions out in his scent, letting them play out of his face?

Had he been that devastated the morning after, packing up his life to be taken away by the two alphas who had claimed him? Or the first time he’d seen death right before his eyes, in the form of a gunshot between the eyes of a rival trafficker. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still see the way the man’s head had blown out, bits of bone and brain spraying over the man’s two omegas. Or maybe, even, for his first kill; a silver letter opener through the heart, shoved through the ribcage of someone who’d thought they could turn Ignis traitor with a few pretty words. 

‘Help me kill your alphas and then you’re free. You won’t even have to do the dirty work, I just need an opening.” 

Probably then, yes. Even now it was a blur after picking up the letter opener and when things came back into focus he was elsewhere, in a bathroom, as Nyx washed the blood from his hands. He had been some kind of devastated, certainly. 

“Gladio will buy you things of course. It will be easier to…fit his ideal that way.”

Prompto rocked back on his heels, hugging himself tighter as he spoke. “Is that what you do? Dress to fit them?”

Ignis considered himself, the skin tight black jeans, the purple singlet with its barely there animal print pattern, the black flannel over top, the glove on one hand and the cracked silver polish flaking off his nails. The chain around his neck and the skull that rapped against his collarbone. The ink on his back, another skull, surrounded by feathers, fancy knotwork, and stark straight lines to represent both alphas, the metal in places they’d desired, the hair, the things he said and did and would do…

He thought about who he’d been before, slacks, braces, and button downs, blazers, hair perfectly in place in his unassuming, inoffensive style, struggling to be seen as more than an omega, fighting with himself when he’d come to care for Noctis because caring for alphas lead to distractions, to problems, could derail an omega’s life with just a bite or a missed birth control pill. He’d had plans and he hadn’t wanted to compromise them for anyone but Noctis, awkward, lazy, kind Noctis had wormed his way into his life. 

Ignis had allowed it, little by little, and convinced himself somehow that it was fine. Noctis was good for him and to him, loving him was safe, it wouldn’t ruin him like it had other omegas. 

He’d been a good deal stupider before his claiming. 

“I do lots of things to fit them.” Is what he settled on. “And you should too. The only thing between you and being dropped to wither, or just outright killed, is that your alpha wants you around. If that changes, or he wants to replace you with the next pretty omega he sees...well. I’d advise you not let that happen.” 

Prompto shuddered, pretty pink mouth pressing into an unhappy frown. Ignis gave him another once over and nodded to himself; cute, bordering on pretty, young, small, and a little on the heavier side, curvy in the way Gladio liked in the omegas he took to bed, though he was, like Ignis, a bit flatter in the chest than a lot of male identifying omegas were. (Gladio had once, in a drunken bout of honesty, told Ignis he was the flattest, boniest omega he had ever fucked. Nyx had been kind enough to break Gladio’s nose for the slight.) He saw where the appeal had been for the alpha. Prompto was very much Gladio’s type though Ignis supposed it didn’t matter; if Gladio had really felt the true mate pull what Prompto looked like would have meant nothing. 

Or so Ignis had heard. 

He sighed. “It’s not so bad. Gladio isn’t that bad.”

Prompto stared at him. “He held me down, claimed me, and fucked me in the middle of a club even though I said no.”

“Noctis kept me as an unaware mistress for two years and, when he got around to telling me he was all but married to another alpha, claimed me against my will before handing me over to Nyx to do the same. By the time they were done with me I would have been so lucky as to move around on my own, or have access to my things. I almost had a masters degree and now I suck off bikers for my alphas’ amusement.” And maybe for his own amusement. It was hard to separate the two concepts these days and, in the end, it didn’t really matter which was the truth. Ignis plucked a pair of leather shorts off of the dresser, eyeing them dispassionately. “Pack these.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Please don’t.” Ignis wrinkled his nose.

“I can’t go with him. I can’t. He murdered someone, right in front of me. He’s...a monster.”

Ignis didn’t smile or laugh or, even, flinch. Prompto didn’t know anything about monsters, not yet. 

“Stay and die then.” Ignis shrugged, pretending that the idea of leaving Prompto behind to either away to nothing didn’t make him feel…strangely hollow. “Or come and make it work. Make Gladio work for you.”

Prompto was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. “And h-how do I do th-that?”

“You wear these shorts. You stay on his arm and scare off the other omegas who want what you have, and they’ll come around sooner or later. You help him, be there when he needs you. You part your legs for him.” Ignis arched an eyebrow. “And then you remind him of what you need in return.”

Prompto went red then blanched before spinning on his heel to bend over and retch into the trash can. And all over the clothes Ignis has discarded.

“Or you could do that, I suppose.” Ignis drawled, eyes dropping back to his hands. No, he certainly hadn’t been this pathetic when it had been him. He’d been broken, afraid, traumatized but when they’d dragged him battered and bruised from the hotel the next morning he’d already had steel building in his spine and a desire to live sharpening his teeth. 

Prompto, on the other hand, seemed about to wilt at any moment. 

It wasn’t any of Ignis’ concern, he had never been one to feel that pull to other omegas they were supposed to feel (they were, at their cores, meant to be more pack orientated than the other dynamics and so they could band together easier than alphas or betas could. Once upon a time all omega packs had existed, raising their pups as a community, using alphas for their seed then sending them off. Ignis had written a paper about it once, fascinated with how much society had changed from that to what it was now, with most shunning packs and omegas at the bottom of the ladder.) And yet he wanted to reach out, to put him back on his feet, to tell him to keep moving. 

He wanted to prop him up like no one had been around to do for him. 

What a strange impulse. 

He dropped the shorts and a few button down shirts into Prompto’s bag then crouched next to the blond. Ignis put a hand between his shoulders and rubbed gently. “It gets better, if you let it.” 

Temporarily anyway. Come the next moon...well. 

One thing at a time. 

He helped Prompto to his feet and back to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. He stopped, hand still on the smaller omega's back, at the sight of them in the mirror. Prompto, smaller and shivering, eyes sad and blood shot. His entire body was an overlapping splatter painting of bruises and bite marks. And Ignis, dark and gaunt, face the same stone mask he saw day in and day out. 

He wondered what the Ignis of before, the one who'd been helplessly charmed by Noctis, would think of this outcome. He wasn't sure he knew, could barely connect who he was now to that person, couldn't imagine what he would think. Life was easier than way.  

He smoothed a hand over Prompto's hair. "It gets better." 

Or, at least, it would if Prompto could find it in himself to leave everything else behind. 


End file.
